Successor
by AlphaMale45
Summary: The Chosen Undead, Gardran, battles Artorias the Abysswalker, the greatest Greatswordsman ever to live. What would he think if he was surpassed? Story spin on the boss battle with Knight Artorias. One-shot. Complete


Gardran sidestepped the massive greatsword of Artorias the Abysswalker. Artorias raised it back up after it bounced of the floor of the arena. He jumped back, brought his blade back, vharging up for a lunging stab attack. Gardran raised his Black Iron Greatshield, confidant in his ability to block the Abysswalker's attack. Artorias lunged after a moment, putting his sword right in the center of Gardran's shield. It caused him to recoil. Gardran took advantage of the opening, swinging his own Greatsword in a vicious arc, meant to cut the knight from shoulder to hip. It made contact, but only knocked back Artorias. Artorias gave a bellow of rage, rolled backwards, and was surrounded by a dark aura.

_This doesn't look good... _After a moment, the aura reached it's apex, and the Abysswalker released an explosion. Gardran wasn't expecting it, and got blasted back several yards. His Black Iron Armor protected him from most of the explosion, but he tasted blood in his mouth, regardless. He clamored to his feet just in time to roll clumsily out of the way of a jumping strike by the giant knight. He regained his footing, throwing his shield in front of him, his Greatshield ready for impact. Artorias did not press the attack, though. He circled Gardran, one hand on his blade, the other dangling uselessly from his side. Gardran began to circle in the opposite direction.

For a few moments, they simply circled each other, until Artorias started making a wretched noise. It was coming from his helmet. Then, he spit black sludge at Gardran. He wasn't prepared, and was covered in the goo. He could feel it eating away at his skin and armor. Artorias pushed the attack this time, spinning around, his blade a deadly flash, slicing Gardran horizontally across his midriff. He grunted, taking a few steps back, flinging the goo off of him. He could feel the blood pouring from the slash that rent open his armor like wet paper. He hurriedly stuck his blade in the ground, and pulled out his Estus Flask. He popped the top and knocked back the foul tasting elixir, feeling it burn all the way down. He tossed the flask to the side for now, it's contents depleted.

The effects were almost immediate, his wound stitching itself back together, almost as if it was never there, and the burns from the acidic sludge receded. Quickly pulling his blade back out of the ground, he raised his shield once more. He heard Artorias growl in frustration, obviously not expecting such a small foe to pose such a threat. He stepped back, resting his sword on his shoulder. Then, he charged, lifting his blade above his head. When he reached Gardran, he brought his blade down, but it was deflected by Gardran's massive shield. It caused Gardran to recoil, his shield flailing to the side. Artorias took his chance, and batted the shield away again, this time knocking it off of Gardran's arm, sending it flying across the arena. Artorias continued his assault by putting his foot in Gardran's stomach, crumpling his armor, and knocking Gardran to the ground, winded.

Artorias rested his sword on his shoulder once more, walking over to Gardran's side slowly, calculating. When he was right next to him, he knelled down next to him, bringing his covered face inches from Gardran's own helmeted head. He stayed like that for a minute, watching Gardran grovel in the dirt, still trying to catch his breath, blood seeping from his mouth and nose. Then, he made a sound similar to a choked laugh, and stood. He continued to laugh raising his blade straight into the air, holding it their, the faded sunlight gleaming off the uncorrupted parts of the once beautiful blade. He brought his blade down, no hesitation in his killing blow. The laughing stopped.

Gardran had brought up his Greatsword just in time, holding it one handed, blocking the deathblow of the Abysswalker. If the giant knight was surprised before, he was in total shock now. A puny Undead had just blocked his blade, with one hand, barely showing any signs of strain. No one had ever challenged him like this, and he had faced Everlasting Dragons, foes the size of the arena they were warring in. At this, Artorias knew he had met his match.

Gardran began trying to stand up, pushing back on Artorias, who was putting all of his immense strength behind his sword. Once Gardran had gotten to his knees, he put both hands on his hilt. He had the advantage now. He was able to push back Artorias enough to get his feet under him, now grunting. When he was on his feet, his blade was above his head, holding back the Abysswalker's blade. Gardran then welled up a burst of strength, pushing his blade upwards and right, sending Artorias to the side. Gardran took the opportunity to take a slice at Artorias's leg. He struck on the side of his right knee, sending the knight to one knee. Gardran then strung together a devastating combo of slashes, cuts, and deadly arcs. A slash to the gut, a cut on his right shoulder, another to his chest, a stab to his left knee, making him drop to both knees, several more cuts and slashes to his body, all the while screaming in rage.

When his attack was done, he stepped back, gulping in air. He then brought his blade back up to his left side, and began a spin, moving to deliver his crippling finale. He gathered up momentum with his swing, going from left to right, and brought his massive Greatsword in a circular arc, aimed at Artorias's right arm. When it made contact, it was sheered right off, dropping the arm and the Abysswalker's blade to the ground. He kept spinning for a moment longer, raking the blade across the knights chest. When Gardran was done, black blood spurted from Artorias's chest, joining the pool of black blood already forming around him.

Even in his corrupted state, Artorias could still clearly realize he was done, beaten at his own game. Someone had come along with more skill with a Greatsword than him. He had always thought he would never be surpassed, but someone had. His last thought was that he was happy that it was this Undead warrior who was his successor, as he had finally ended him from his torture that Manus had him endure. He used every last bit of his sanity to whisper to Gardran something that the Chosen Undead would never forget, just as his head was being lopped from his body, sending it spinning through the air, his body crashing to the ground.

Gardran walked over to his Estus flask, picking it up out of the dirt, stashing it in its pouch. He then walked to where his shield was, sheathing his blade. When he saw the sorry state it was in, he kicked it to the side, the mangled piece of metal beyond repair of even the Giant Blacksmith in Anor Londo. As he proceeded to the exit of the arena, he thought of what Artorias had said to him in his final moments.

_You are my Successor, Undead. Carry your title with pride, or you will dishonor both of us. Thank you._


End file.
